


The Cerinian Earth

by OAC_QI



Category: Star Fox Series
Genre: Alien Technology, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Magic, Magitek, May/December Relationship, Nanotechnology, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Romance, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Technology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OAC_QI/pseuds/OAC_QI
Summary: For times uncounted, the kingdom of Cerinia has lived in peace. Her vassals are content, her people happy, and the serviles obedient. All of that changes with the discovery of an ancient golem near Randorn's home, setting off a chain reaction of revelations from the golem's past to the secrets Randorn has hid from his children.
Relationships: Krystal/OC
Comments: 2





	The Cerinian Earth

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**_One_ **

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* * *

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The air was still. No bird chirped, no insect sounded, no leaf stirred. Silent goliathan trees stood vigil in ordered ranks, spaced evenly ten meters apart, like an army of golems. Their branches interlocked high above as enormous arches, providing a deep shade untouched by sunlight. The exception to this was this forest's edge, where long shafts of golden light streamed forth like knightly lances into the gloom, creating twilight.

Before the trees, just as silent, hovered two Cerinians sitting with folded legs.

The first was the elder. Golden brown with black markings upon his limbs and tail, white front up to his muzzle; clad in robes as indistinguishable as his fur, the only hint of bright color being a glowing necklace of blue stone. His name was Randorn, Mage-Warden of Merryvale.

The second was the younger. A brighter gold, with white markings and front, tail ending in a black tip. Her garb was a student's clothes—tunic, red; trousers, light blue. She bore no decoration. Her name was Kurisutaru, daughter of Randorn.

"…now, reach out and touch the stone," Randorn was saying. "Be mindful of your surroundings, do not lose focus."

Scattered about them in untidy heaps were piles of stone. Some had dark splotches of earth upon them. Many were large boulders measuring thrice a man's breadth, and some few as small as pebbles yet sharp as a blade.

Kurisutaru did as she was instructed. With the power of her mind she "reached" out with practiced ability and "touched" a stone whose height towered over them both, and no mean feat either as they floated some five feet off the ground. The rock shuddered as she settled her grip about it. Then, with an audible sucking sound as earth gave way and vines tore, the rock lifted itself into the air—joining the assorted shards of failed attempts hovering about them.

"To use the power of the mind," Randorn continued, his eyes closed, "is to use the power of the world about you. Tell me, what do you see?"

"I—I see energy." Her voice was hesitant, almost afraid. "I see green from the ironoaks about us, I see black from the stones, I see blue from you and your necklace."

"What you see is the fundamental properties of the world. Every single thing, from you and I to the great Monoliths, bear this energy. All of it colored, with many exceedingly varied shades and hues, most too subtle to describe: we can only see them with the mind, not by sight. Now, tell me, what do these colors mean?"

"Green and… and blue? they are the color of life. Black, it is the color of earth."

"Good, good. What is the significance of these?"

"I… I don't know?"

"Correct. The greatest scholars of our age, and before to the great deeps of time from which our people sprang, have long wrestled with this question. Many of us are not sure what the colors _mean_ or why they are the way they are. But what we do know for certain is what they represent."

"Blue represents mage energy," she recited. "It is raw power as gifted from the sky. Green represents the innate life signature of all living things. It is intrinsic to mage energy. Without it life cannot exist. Black represents stability, solidity. It is our mother earth, for dust we are and dust we shall return. All color begins with white, the pure celestial color of the sky and sun, and all color ends with the black, the color of rebirth."

"Very good. Now, what relevance does any of this have with using it?"

Far away, watching with eyes that scarcely could contain his excitement, was a boy, hiding behind one of the ironoaks. He was breaking the rule about watching a lesson in progress but his curiosity got the better this time. He was an unusual sort—unlike the floating figures, he possessed none of their physical attributes. No tail snaked out from behind his back, no pointed ears cocked themselves upon either side of his face, and most telling of all there was no hint of a vulpine visage upon him. His name was Tristan, and he was Randorn's manservant.

Ever since that strange girl calling herself Master's daughter had shown up he had been overcome with an incredible nosiness. Before she appeared the only other Cerinian he had seen besides Master was the elderly woman (and her servants) who showed up thrice a month with supplies, and since then his work had suffered in favor of watching the going ons of Master. Tristan had always been a little curious about the magic Master worked, but being unable to sense any of it could not understand how it was that Master could summon a cup to his hand without looking at it or commanding the brushes and water buckets to scrub flooring. He had dared to sneak a glimpse into the books left lying about on occasion, but the wording was gibberish to him, without any meaning.

From here, however, this was about to change. Hidden as he was behind the ironoak he could hear their every word and see for himself how word translated thought to action. Mostly. He had to be careful to not make a sound—Master had told him often enough to keep quiet whenever he worked magic, and when he had broken that rule…

He grimaced as the unwelcome memory resurfaced. Randorn had set him to hard physical labor for that transgression, cleaning out the massive cauldron he used for making potions and other strange-smelling liquid. Blergh.

"…move the stone upwards and to the right. Try to feel it as if it were but a feather."

Kurisutaru nodded and tried to imitate his example. But it was difficult. The moment Randorn released the stone into her "hand" she could feel its very real weight press down upon her. Fortunately she was ready for it and didn't drop it in surprise this time. She visualized it in her mind as a uniform mass of something exceedingly large and, then, began to shrink it.

Outwardly there was no physical change. Mass could not be altered. But inwardly the "weight" began to decrease—slowly. Not as fast as he had demonstrated, but it was enough. She gritted her teeth and tried to remain focused. Maintaining concentration was important, as just one wrong thing—be it a stray bird or a wayward doubt—could disrupt all the progress she had made.

And not incidentally cause the stone to come crashing down upon them.

Little by little the stone's weight shrunk itself, much in the same way a sponge swelled with water, until it was indeed as light as a feather. She breathed a sigh of audible relief: she had done it.

"Wow…"

_Wait, what—waargh!_

Her eyes flew open and she turned her head toward the sound, just as her body fell out of the air and landed with a heavy _twump_. She felt the wind leave her with explosive force—and in that same split instant, for her "hand" was still holding the stone, felt its weight return with a vengeance and the entire thing fell toward her. Reacting quickly she curled up into a ball, hands thrown about her face in a futile attempt to protect herself.

"Concentrate!"

Kurisutaru opened her eyes and looked up. There was the stone, still hovering in place. And there was Randorn, still in his place. He looked down at her. "Concentrate," he repeated. She nodded, still breathing hard. _Be still, my heart_ …

"Boy!" Randorn called. "Come out at once."

She propped herself upon her elbows and turned about, now no longer in imminent danger of being crushed, and looked where Randorn now had his full attention upon. A few moments passed, she could sense very palpable embarrassment from the trees now that her mind was distracted. It came from someone very, very young, and not at all Cerinian. Then from behind one of the ironoaks came Tristan, face red.

Kurisutaru giggled to herself. Tellurians were such strange creatures, letting their emotions play across their flat faces as easily as water rippled in a pond from a light wind. Outwardly she kept her own face composed lest she add to his discomfort.

Randorn descended from the air, uncrossing his legs as he touched the ground. His robes settled about him. "What were you doing back there?" he asked.

"I… I uh… well…"

"Speak up, you sound like you have a frog in your throat."

Tristan gulped, working his mouth furiously as words failed to come out. He was so red it looked his face was ablaze.

"Remind me what I told you before?" Randorn said. "You were to stay at home, do your chores, and not go looking for us. Imagine if there had been a rock above your head, just imagine what would have happened if I was not paying attention. You would have ended up like poor Kuri had I not intervened… thanks to you."

"I'm sorry sir it won't happen again I just wanted to see you do magic—"

"Ah." He held up a hand. "I have told you many times, you have seen me work magic countless times, why is this any different? You have no Gift, no potential, why do you insist on interfering with delicate training such as this? You cannot see what she sees, cannot feel what she feels—is this some sort of spectacle for you? To ease your boredom you go looking for entertainment and find it in your betters?" Throughout his voice had been relatively calm, but now the tone changed. "Do you think mage training is a _game_ , boy? To amuse nonmages like yourself? Is it nothing more than party tricks? Oh, look at me, I can do this—"

He gestured and the largest boulder shot straightaway into the air at a height that reached the lowermost ironoak branches, far higher than Kurisutaru could ever manage.

"—I can do tricks with it, too, just like in the storybooks—"

The boulder moved with swiftness, knocking into the tree behind Tristan. The boy cowered as needles showed down thickly. (Kurisutaru winced; ironoak needles were as sharp as literal needles.)

"—now what would happen if I stop paying attention, hmm?"

The rock started to fall. Tristan immediately darted out of its way, and it followed him.

"Oh, whoops, my control is a little too fine for that."

Now furiously backpedaling the boy started to run, trying to get away from the huge rock now chasing him. Every so often it would swoop down and brush his hair—a spectacle that saw him duck with absurd contortion—only to shoot back up when he tried to avoid it. Every so often he would trip over his feet and the rock would wait until he had regained his footing before resuming the chase. This went on for a while.

Kurisutaru couldn't help but feel sorry for him. _That's no way to treat a tellurian_ , she thought. _Why must you scare the poor boy so?_

 _~A lesson in obedience,~_ came the instant reply, and she shivered. _~He needs to learn his lesson.~_

_~Couldn't you just set him some tasks, then?~_

Randorn didn't answer but advanced forward toward the forest. Tristan had disappeared into the forest but great thuds and shrieks of pain from falling needles told that he was still being pursued by a rock with vengeance.

 _~Class is canceled for today,~_ he said crisply. _~Homework, refine your control over large objects using the techniques taught in this lesson. You must use heavy items for this exercise.~_

_~Please, spare him!~_

She scrambled to her feet but he had already ventured back into the forest. Soon his robed form had disappeared into the depths, retreating from the lancing sunlight. The thuds and shrieks still continued but grew fainter and fainter. Tristan was undoubtedly being chased all the way back home. Kurisutaru sighed. _Father,_ she grumbled. _He's only a boy._

A breeze rustled her hair, and the twittering sounds of the forest returned just as quickly; with Randorn's departure so did the spell of silence set upon this little area. She shivered again. _Damned southern weather_ , she grumbled. These clothes were not suitable at all for such chill. She looked back at the stones, most of which were just now settling back down onto the ground. Even with his back turned and attention focused on punishing a disobedient child, Father's control over the elements was absolute.

The landscape beyond the forest was vast and green. Distant wisps of clouds scudded across the sky, blown about by greater winds than the one that briefly assailed her. Most of the land beyond dropped off a sheer cliff-face not some fifty meters from where she stood. Below were cultivated fields and straight roads, full of orchards and multitudinous crops. And looming high in the distant background, casting a vast pointed shadow that covered a huge swathe of land off to her far left, was the Monolith.

More gigantic than a mountain range, impossibly straight, it lanced upwards into the heavens from its deep roots in the earth. No one knew what caused its emergence or creation. Ancient myth and legend held it was but one of the many pillars of the world, holding the heavens at bay and anchoring the land from drifting about, and that the gods held their abodes upon their uttermost summits, the heights of which no one had managed to ascend. Clouds parted around it, made thin with vast distance, and there was no snow or ice upon it.

At its base lay the farm city of Merryvale, the center of civilization for kilometers around. She had only visited the city once, when she first came. Her guardians had inquired after Randorn and were told he lived apart. They had to wait upon his pleasure, and wait they did, grumbling for weeks until he came at last. Once he did, however, her freedom had come to an end and lessons had begun in earnest.

Still, in spite of this, that boy Tristan was a welcome distraction from the monotony of mage-crafting.

_Just why is he so hard on him?_

No answer was forthcoming, and she retreated into the forest before another gust of wind came to banish what little warmth her paltry garb afforded her.

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Tristan ran like his life depended on it. The huge rock still pursued him, banging this way and that off of oblivious ironoaks—they being so sturdy and solid not even bark cracked off—as if it were intent on mashing his head to a pulp. Of course it wouldn't, Randorn wasn't that capricious, but for as long as he bent his mind toward it Tristan had to avoid the thing as if it were going to kill him.

He couldn't use anything to hide behind. All of the trees branches were too high overhead to slow his pursuer's advance and the trees themselves were so far apart he couldn't use them to block or confuse it. All he could was run in a straight line. But his adrenalin-fueled sprinting was started to flag as muscles started to protest in earnest. His breath was coming in shorter and shorter gasps as he gulped for more air. Soon he would stumble and fall, and then what?

That came sooner than later, for his foot caught itself on a hummock and, arms wind-milling, went sprawling face first on the ground. Almost immediately he flipped himself around, crawling backwards on his elbows, as the rock advanced towards him. It neared him until it was just before—then, sank, like a stone through water, and thudded into the ground.

Tristan flinched. It was but an inch from his shoes.

_~I trust the lesson has been learned, boy?~_

He scowled. _Yes, master,_ he sullenly "thought" back.

_~Very good. Now, head home and wash up. Dinner will be served shortly.~_

He breathed. Usually Master was more thorough in his punishments, but this time seemed to be in a good mood. Otherwise the rock would have floated about until he regained enough strength to stand and the chase began anew. Not that Master normally used rocks, oh no. His stomach growled—his body was exhausted, and was making its displeasure quite plain.

Tristan stood up, cautiously, not taking his eyes off the motionless stone until he had put a good many meters between them, and incidentally more than a few rows of ironoaks. Then he turned and ran again as if his life depended on it. Dinner was not something he would miss for the world. Or, tried to run. He had to stop several times to walk out the inevitable stitches that punched his gut. By the time he had gotten home the sun had long since descended beneath the horizon and the deep blue of near midnight encased the forest.

When he reached the house they called home, he saw Kurisutaru standing by the door, casually leaning against the frame, arms folded. Her expression was one of amusement.

"Oh come off of it," he growled. "It's not funny. You wouldn't laugh if _you_ had a magic stone chase after you."

"I seem to remember you being told to not watch us," she replied lightly, mischief dancing in her eyes. "So I'd say it is your fault, really."

Tristan made a fist and mock-swung at her. Or tried to. With the ease of long practice she froze the entire limb in place—almost physically locking it right where it was most awkwardly extended. "Oh come on," he said. "That's not fair."

"You shouldn't hit a Cerinian."

He rolled his eyes. "That's what they all say."

"Kuri, has our wastrel of a manservant come home yet?" Randorn's voice echoed from inside the house.

"Yes he has," she yelled back.

"Boy, go wash up, now."

With a smirk Kurisutaru released her mental hold upon his limb and stepped back. Tristan's arm immediately continued on its original trajectory and, before he could stop, punched the door-frame.

" _Yeouch!_ "

Hand stinging he shook it with great haste even as he glared daggers at her. "One day," he said, "one day I will get the best of you."

She laughed. "You can try." And leaned forward for a kiss.

All his anger melted away and he swept her into an embrace. For a beautifully long moment they stood like that in the doorway. Tristan ruffled the top of her head with puffs of air, watching as her ears twitched. "Stop that," she murmured, voice pitched low. "That tickles."

"Consider it payback," he whispered.

"You technically started it."

He laughed. Then released her.

"All right, boy," she said, imitating Randorn's tone of voice. "Go wash up for dinner."

"Yes, ma'am."

She gave him a rare smile before turning about to go to dinner, leaving him alone. Tristan watched as she went down the hall, not moving until she had rounded the corner and disappeared. Her tail vanished last of all. Ah, that tail, he liked to tease her about it, how it would sometimes get caught in doors or (when Randorn was elsewhere) in his hands, and he would twist it about like a rope, chuckling at her twitchings and vibrating from the stimulation. He could only do it for long before she decked him.

Still wringing his hand he pulled off his jacket, more mindful of the cold than she was from his lack of body fur, hung it up, and closed the door. The faint chill that had grown with the passing of day faded away and the warmth of the house returned. With it came a delicious smell—food. He took a deep breath before moving through a side-door and down the hall toward the washroom. It was fortunately an indoor affair, with running water and knobs to adjust temperature. Living with a mage had its pointers even in spite of the isolation.

As he stepped into the room and turned on the water a shower of sparks leaped into existence and raced about him. He quickly snatched his hands from the water.

"Lucamu!" he hissed.

The sparks resolved themselves into a tiny person with gigantic wings, very relative to her size as she was but the height of his middle finger. The faerie giggled, a chorus of tiny bells filling the room.

"That's not funny," Tristan said. "Don't do that around water."

A chime, and a half chime. A rhetorical question.

"You know damn well it'll shock me. Come off of it, or Master will expel you."

A half-hearted _ding._

"Good, now leave me alone, please. I don't have time for this. First I get chased by a rock—"

Lucamu gasped, tiny hands covering her mouth, and flew at him. She whirled about his form, in an instant inspecting his body for damage. She resumed her original spot of floating in midair before his face and began rattling off a series of senseless, discordant chimes.

"Wasn't my fault! I wanted to see her practice, that's all. No, it wasn't justified—he sent a huge _boulder_ after me, how is that fair?" He listened as water ran through his fingers. Then shook his head. "No, they didn't see me, I was behind a tree—"

She laughed, a tinkling of bells filling the air.

"Oh, all right, you got me. I forgot where I was and alerted them. Damned near crushed Kuri, too," he mumbled.

More chimes, at which his face grew red again.

"No, no! it wasn't like that at all—"

" _Boy!_ are you done _yet?_ "

"Coming, Master!" Tristan hurriedly switched off the water and dried his hands. Lucamu was still overcome with a fit of faerie giggling, at which he made a face and a gesture in her direction. All he got for it was a brief jolt and more tiny laughter. "Listen, can you go and pick out the needles from my jacket? It's hanging by the door on its usual side."

A two-toned chime.

"Yes, yes, you'll get the usual." He sighed. "Master will get suspicious if you keep eating all the sugar, though."

" _Boy!_ "

"I'll talk to you later." Tristan hurried off, leaving the faerie alone. Still giggling Lucamu broke apart into sparks and vanished back into the wall.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Welcome back to The Cerinian Earth. For those of you who remember the original, my condolences. Your reviews are welcome.


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